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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832973">Dancing On My Own</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshette/pseuds/Threshette'>Threshette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glass for the Saints [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Exos are canonically fascinated with tiddy, F/F, It's not my fault mentioning the moon is foreshadowing, Marshmallow Fluff, Trans Female Character, do you know how much Glimmer it costs to buy robot boobs, even if they're not mad about not being able to take HRT, space law</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshette/pseuds/Threshette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A moonlit discussion about the significance of stars and the legality of warsat vandalism.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eriana-3/Wei Ning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glass for the Saints [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dancing On My Own</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s something about the Moon that does it, Eriana thinks. </p>
<p>Wei Ning is easy-going, but never quite relaxed, exactly. Sure, she has an easy, loose poise that makes even the most veteran Titans look awkward, but something about her is always in motion, impatient, urgent for action. She’s Arc in the purest sense — a current, a motion — so seeing her actually, truly relaxed is a rare thing indeed. </p>
<p>And it’s only ever happened under moonlight. Tonight it streams in through her (their, now) bedroom window, round, full and bright. When it’s like this, even knowing full well what lurks beneath its surface Eriana can’t help but take some solace in its glow, the way she thinks people in the Golden Age did. </p>
<p>Absently, she wonders if the woman with her arm around her feels something like that; if that’s the reason she opens up in a way she doesn’t even in subspace, like— </p>
<p>“You know,” Wei says, “I knew how to throw a punch before I knew how to read.”</p>
<p>Eriana’s train of thought is replaced by hundreds of well-practiced Titan jokes. She takes a moment to pull both Wei’s arm and the sheets around herself, as she forces her brain back into seriousness. “Really?”</p>
<p>“Really. Good form for a Spark, too: nice stance, decent followthrough, one-two just like that.” Wei throws a couple of lazy jabs at the air. “Didn’t get a hang on Chinese for my first six months; English took a year after that.”</p>
<p>“How’d you pick it up?”</p>
<p>With her face against Wei’s chest, Eriana can hear her heartbeat pick up a little. “Long story.” </p>
<p>“You talk my ear off all the time already,” Eriana counters. “Why stop now?”</p>
<p>Usually, Wei jumps at any opportunity to regale her and everyone else in a five-mile radius with the stories of her exploits: drop-kicking a Cabal fighter out of orbit, Pahanin shooting her over a mountain range with a Shadowshot, the usual. Sky above, Wei spent months trying to impress her with that til she just resorted to asking her out. Titans.</p>
<p>So sensing hesitation — actual, heart-a-flutter hesitation, not just dramatic flair — almost makes her regret asking the question.</p>
<p>“I told you about where Ghost picked me up, right?”</p>
<p>“The spaceport?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” </p>
<p>Wei lets out a long breath before she speaks again. “It took nearly four years for anyone to find me there.”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>“I thought for the longest time that there wasn’t anyone else. Month after month, kicking Dregs in the teeth and eating MREs out the back of the shuttle I woke up in. Just me and the stars.”</p>
<p>Silently, Eriana presses herself tighter against Wei.</p>
<p>“Took three months for me to clear out enough of the port to reach computers. It was the first time I saw movies, you know? Movies, music, all of that, but— but nothing about it felt real. There wasn’t anything I could see outside aside from rubble, Ketches and… well, the stars. So I decided I’d learn all the names the people before me gave them. Just so I’d have something of theirs to carry on.”</p>
<p>Eriana brushes a couple of strands of hair out of Wei’s eyes. “What was your first? The first one you learned, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Tianlang,” Wei says, automatically. “Sirius. It was the name on the shuttle, eight-point-six light years away…” </p>
<p>A long, silent moment; nothing but the Traveller and the City’s lights to keep them company.</p>
<p>“My little star,” Eriana whispers, part instinct, part realisation.</p>
<p>Wei makes a sudden choked noise, and at first Eriana thinks it’s a little laugh — then her breath hitches, high and nervous, and it becomes clear just what it is. “You know I nearly cried, the first time you called me that?”</p>
<p>In answer, Eriana presses her lips against Wei’s hand, letting the heat of the Sun itself warm her lover’s skin. An idea is beginning to form: one involving plenty of fire and property damage. The best kind.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow,” she says, suddenly. “Tomorrow, let’s make a star of our own.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Years later:</p>
<p>“Gonna be honest, Guardian,” Ana says, “I don’t think this is one of Rasputin’s. Not anymore, at least.”</p>
<p>The rogue signal popped onto her radar just a couple of weeks ago: faint, sure, but a dissenting voice from any one of Rasputin’s nodes is enough to be a worry. She tracked its trajectory, figured when it was going to deorbit, put out a bounty for a fireteam willing to pick it up for transmat — and as usual, the Guardian came through with flying colors.</p>
<p>The Young Wolf themselves stands in the corner of her workshop, head tilted to the side at this revelation. &lt;Not his?&gt; they sign.</p>
<p>“Nup.” Ana slaps a discolored patch on one of the warsat’s faces. “This here is Titan plasteel. City-made. Some Guardian cut open one of Rasputin’s warsats and patched it back up: bet you anything there’s some poor Sentinel out there still looking for the chestplate this used to be.”</p>
<p>&lt;Strange.&gt;</p>
<p>“Yeah, real weird. May as well do some surgery of our own, though… Sorry, Big Red,” Ana mutters, drawing her Golden Gun and firing a single shot at the very edge of the patch. </p>
<p>As expected, it melts a neat little hole, just big enough for her to stick a finger in and lever the plasteel loose. “Now let’s see...”</p>
<p>Calling this ‘sabotage’ feels like an insult to the term. This is a hack job. Whatever lowercase-vandal did this jury-rigged a… music player? to the warsat’s generator, clumsily ripping out most of its internals to make room. That Rasputin could even recognise it at all is frankly a surprise to her.</p>
<p>&lt;What is it?&gt;</p>
<p>“A message in a bottle.” Gingerly, Ana pries it loose and clears some space on her bench to plug it into her speakers. “Wonder what it has to say.”</p>
<p>It takes a moment for the garbled static to resolve into meaning, and even then she can barely hear it. Laughter, bassy enough even through the fuzz to make the table ring a little;  what might be words, a battle cry, something shouted loud and defiant. More laughter, another voice, then it repeats. </p>
<p>The sound of two ghosts, drunk off adrenaline, victorious forever in these fifteen seconds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Swear to God I will single-handedly write works for this pairing til it has more posts than Among Us, home-cooked food for me and literally nobody else let's fucking go</p></blockquote></div></div>
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